


A Taste of Heaven in Hell: Book 1

by KurotheDarkRingmaster



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Cooking, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KurotheDarkRingmaster/pseuds/KurotheDarkRingmaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian, heads to London in search of a job as a Pastry Chef. He decides to apply to Ciel. Only to meet an impatient 20 year old owner, a snide Head Chef and a bubbly blond bartender who flirts with anything. Terrible things are bound to happen as the heat is turned up and fires are started.As a result of Sebastian's arrival a long time rival has appeared, Ash Landers, just how will it end when Landers throws down the gauntlet and Sebastian accepts. With hints of human trafficking, illegal transactions, and a dark plot by Angela Blanc, Ash's sister, against Lord Vincent of the Phantomhives, things become even more complicated. Dark forces are at work, and they all seem to revolve around Sebastian, the question is just what he has to do with it all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge foodie and this work combines both my passion for writing with my passion for food and wine. This work was originally posted on FanFiction.net. I am the same author I simply wanted another place to share it. I hope you enjoy, all off the recipes are listed at the end in the work cited. 
> 
> I will also paste the citations in the notes at the end of each chapter.

** Desert 1: Strawberry Mille Feuille and "Little Masters" Part I **

Sebastian looked at the beautiful doors of one of the greatest restaurants in the world. Complete with a fully stocked cellar of some of the finest wines in the world, Bartenders who were the best of their classes and competitions, waiters known for elegance and grace, a kitchen which made a chef drool and topped with 4 Michelin Stars. He slipped a stray black hair behind his ear as he slowly opened the door of _Ciel_.

The foyer was exceptionally clean, with traditional French elements and a modern feel. The walls were painted a warm cream, which was offset by a number of impressionist pieces. A large mahogany desk was in the front, with a single young man standing behind it, he had a pair of purple eyes, dark skin and his hair had a purple sheen which he had neatly tied behind his head. His eyes glanced up from the book, and he asked, "May I help you?" Sebastian nodded; he was wearing his black chef's coat, a pair of black sauté pants and carrying his knife bag. He had a thermometer sticking out of the arm pocket of the jacket as well as a pen. "Yes, I'm here for the interview for the position of head pastry chef," he responded.

The young man smiled sweetly as he glanced down at the book, "Your name?" he asked curiously as he gazed at the page, his Hindi accent was thick and it became apparent what his lineage was. He had a golden pen tucked between his fingers as he waited to hear it. "Michaelis, Sebastian Michaelis," he replied. His eyes glided to the flower arrangements, massive white and red roses had been selected. "Welcome Mr. Michaelis, he is expecting you in the dining hall," the young man commented. Sebastian nodded and glanced back at the desk to see that the young man wasn't just a waiter, "I'm Soma, by the way, I work as the general manager," he commented as he walked beside Sebastian.

So that was his role, he looked rather young to be a general manager. Looks were often deceiving. He was after all very young for his trade with the amount of success he had accrued. The dinning hall was painted a warm burgundy red; it was inviting and rather traditional. There was something about the way this restaurant was set up which made him feel at home. The tables were decorated with candles and covered with fresh linens. He could smell the spices from where he stood, a bartender was working at the bar taking inventory and polishing glasses. It was a Sunday morning and yet there they were working. A massive crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, it sparkled and he noted it was pristine. Even the floor was elegant, a beautiful parquet floor was there, and he felt as though he were back in Paris.

Sitting alone was a gentleman in a navy blue suite, his legs were crossed, and a tea-cup was in his hands. His slate blue hair was rather short and seemed more like a mop than a hairstyle. "Sir, Mr. Michaelis," said Soma smoothly as he stood before the owner. Sebastian waited for his cue to appear, he wasn't about to stand before the man who could potentially throw him out. "Good, make something I would want to eat," he stated as he waved his hand toward the kitchen.

The gesture it's self was nowhere near as refined as the rest of the restaurant, in fact he had never been treated this way in his life. Sebastian lifted an eyebrow in confusion after hearing this, usually they asked for resumes first, class ratings, training, number of years in the field, awards, and who he trained under. Yet all he wanted was something to eat, "Anything?" asked Sebastian in confusion. He heard a sigh of exasperation leave the owner, "Yes, anything," he responded harshly.

This concept frightened Sebastian more than imaginable; he had no idea what this individual was partial to. Hundreds of questions buzzed in his head pertaining to the sweetness of dishes, the presentation, elements, even the very nature of the desert was up in the air. Nothing in his training at _Le Cordon Bleu_ prepared him for this. He nodded as he followed Soma to the kitchen, never once looking at the one who was to be tasting the desert.

He opened the doors to a white and spotless stainless steel kitchen, oddly it was empty. "You have access to everything in the pantry as well as the refrigerators," said Soma before he disappeared. Before the tall raven haired chef could respond Soma had vanished, "They can never make these things easy, can they?" he asked as he placed his hands on his hips.

Since the young man was indisputably English there was only one thing an Englishman would drink this time of day, Earl Gray Tea, and powerful. He closed his eyes as he thought of the possible desserts which could be paired with it. He smiled after a moment and realize it would be better if he went with a traditional classic which was simple, but took skill to execute. "Well young master, let's see if I can make you crave more," he commented as he walked toward the pantry and pulled out a silver canister of flour.

It was rather humid, which meant the flour would be rather moist. He couldn't allow it to be flat that meant compensating was in order. In seconds the canister of salt was in his hands, another silver canister, clearly the head chef respected his ingredients. A smile curved the raven haired chef as he placed the canisters down and went in search of the scale. Scales were a pastry chef's best friend, by the mass of the flour he could determine the ratio of all the other ingredients. Once he found the silver digital scale he dashed toward the fridge and reach for the butter, "Firm and unsalted," he muttered as he located the sticks.

He paused momentarily to ogle at the sight of the walk in, clearly the head chef was spoiled by the owner, and all the ingredients were fresh and looked as though they had just been plucked from the farm. "Wow," he whispered before shaking his head and berating himself, "Admire it later, pastry first," he groaned. He looked around curiously, everything was metal, which wasn't ideal for a pastry. "Is there not a wood cutting board anywhere?" he asked in confusion. He honestly should have asked for a tour of the kitchen, he would need an un-textured glass surface later, another impossible thing. Sebastian honestly began to wonder if there was ever a pastry chef on staff at this restaurant. "Where on earth is the cutting board?" he asked in frustration.

He heard a cough behind him, which nearly made him jump out of his skin. Sebastian spun around to find a massive man standing behind him, his black hair had a sheen of violet to it and a pair of cold golden eyes. He was wearing a black chef's coat as well and a tall chef's hat, "Behind you," he responded. Sebastian stared in shock; this man was the head chef. His eyes glided over his neat appearance and noted golden script on his chest, _C. Faustus_. "Thank you," Sebastian replied as he grabbed the board and opened his black knife bag. Nestled inside were assorted silver blades, pastry brushes, thermometers and other tools which most kitchens didn't have that pastry chefs required. His nimble fingers freed the pastry scraper.

"Liquid measuring cup," he mused as he looked on the shelves for one. The massive chef was still standing there and asked, "Are you planning on acting like a second-rate chef the entire time, or shall I gather the tools you need?" There was an edge to Claude's voice which rubbed Sebastian the wrong way, he may have looked handsome but his demeanor was horrendous. "I'm not a second-rate, and it would be helpful since no one showed me where anything was in this kitchen," he replied. Claude chuckled before sauntering off, "Oh so you do have teeth, I was beginning to wonder if you have them pulled," he commented.

Sebastian's red eyes narrowed as he watched the man walk away to grab the liquid measuring cup. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath as he walked over to the scale and weight 12 ounces and then 6 of butter, he would compensate by cutting back on the water by an ounce.

His eyes were locked on the display of the scale as he measured the flour to the nearest decimal and then the butter. Resting on the cutting board was an empty glass measuring cup. "Thanks," Sebastian responded, he had brought his own rolling-pin. He sprinkled some flour on the board before unwrapping the wax paper which the butter had been snuggly wrapped in. There was a scrape in the background and Sebastian glanced up to see the head chef perched on a stool across from him.

His head rested on the heel of one of his hands and his glasses slipped down his nose a little. Of coursethis man was going to watch him like a hawk, Sebastian was both new and he was probably the only one who could rate his skill. "Making a puff pastry with so little time is daring," commented Claude, "On top of the fact that this kitchen is humid." The pastry scraper made quick work of cutting the butter into chunks on the board, a cloud of flour appeared as Sebastian added more of it. "I'm aware, that's why I'm compensating," he stated, he was never a fan of people hovering as he worked.

The kitchen was silent as he continued to mix the flour, salt, and butter on the cutting board. Sebastian could feel Faustus' harsh gaze as he continued to make the dough. Once they were thoroughly mixed he grabbed the measuring cup and poured five ounces of water into it, he planned on not using all of it, but was aware that anymore than five ounces would be far too much. He checked the temperature of the water with his fingers to ensure it was cold enough, he didn't want to shock the pastry, that would make a mess. Sebastian gently tipped the glass measurer to slowly add water to the dry mix on the board, if he was just a bit off the pastry would fall apart and be useless.

The goal was a flakybut moist pastry, something which would melt in the mouth after a bite. "Aren't you concerned the least about the time?" asked Faustus the question drew Sebastian out of his mental notes. He was known as one of the best and fastest at the Cordon Bleu for his ability to make a rough pastry. "Nope, nervous?" asked Sebastian teasingly as he finished adding water and began folding.

He floured the roller before beginning to flatten the dough, Sebastian knew how to work the dough, fold after fold he allowed the dough to act naturally. He was careful to apply even pressure to the pastry as he worked, ensuring that it was smooth and clean. Sebastian snatched the brush from his bag and swiftly dusted off the excess flour between folds. The once chunky and hardly dough looking substance turned into a beautifully folded white sheet. The head chef was silent as he watched the pastry chef work. "Cellophane?" asked Sebastian curiously as he put the last two folds in the pastry. Faustus vanished from the stool as he retrieved the box and placed it beside the raven haired chef.

"No, you're the one looking for a job, as far as I'm concerned you're a second-rate who's fresh out of school and has no real experience," Faustus responded coldly. Every word was dripping in venom, Sebastian could tell this chef wasn't a fan of pastries or the ones who created them. He had heard a rumor that the previous chef had left the position, due to harassment from the head chef. Perhaps that rumor which he had dismissed had an ounce of truth to it.

Sebastian wrapped the dough and stowed it in the fridge to set for half an hour before pulling it out to work. "Now the filling," he commented as he looked at the bright red and succulent strawberries. They were screaming to be used in a pastry. A smirk of delight swept across his lips, "I know just what to make," he commented as he plucked the basked from the shelf of the walk in. "Cream," he mused as his fingers walked the shelves in search of the carton. He hummed after finding it and returned to where he had worked.

The golden eyed chef was still perched on the stool, Sebastian washed the strawberries and noticed a confused look on the chef's face. He was making a spring combination, rather than summer. The bright red berries glistened once washed and he shook the water from their skin. Sebastian's fingers moved swiftly as he attempted to make up for lost time which was due to making the dough from scratch. His fingers caressed the soft edges of the berries as he hulled every one of them.

Crimson red eyes were locked on the fruit as the small knife slipped into each one and removed the core. Claude slipped into the background as he continued making his food. The smell of fresh strawberries reminded him of summer, it seemed to warm the sterile kitchen and made it feel like there was more to this glacier than just cold steel. Once cored, the strawberries were placed in a glass bowl which oddly the head chef had given him. Sebastian nodded as he whisked the berries off the table and placed them in the bowl, "Thanks," he commented. The head chef simply huffed and crossed his arms, "Yeah," he remarked. "Icing sugar and casting sugar," he commented, "Just a touch of vanilla to tie it together."

"Making the whipped cream from scratch as well?" asked Faustus once Sebastian had returned with the ingredients, two bowls, whisk, spoon and another carton of double cream. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked. Oddly the silver scale was resting beside him, calibrated and clean. Everything in the way this chef acted made Sebastian believe that he didn't want him to succeed, yet he still assisted him. He had a feeling this man was a Gemini. His mood swings were giving Sebastian whip-lash. "The work and time," responded Faustus sharply. Sebastian heaved a sigh as he weight the caster sugar and selecting the softer strawberries to make the purée. "I'm making a purée as well, as for time I have it, the pastry will be easy once the rest of the pieces are made," he commented. The golden eyed chef raised an eyebrow in confusion as he watched Sebastian hands.

In a flash the young chef had made a purée and was going to begin making the whipped cream. Sebastian gradually added the heavy double cream to the bowl as well as both sugar and a touch of vanilla. A medley of strawberries, vanilla and cream tangled in the air, he was certain that the chef watching was drooling for his treats. Sebastian cradled the bowl in his arms as he whipped air into the cream, it was light and fluffy white as snow and smelt sweet. Resting off to the side was a piping bag and star nozzle. "Time to work the dough," he commented as he sprinted back to the fridge and pulled out the sheet. It had stiffened up perfectly and looked like a smooth cream-colored sheet as he unwrapped the cellophane.

"Now the question is will it rise properly," drawled Faustus.

Sebastian hugged and smiled, it was going to rise, "Pre-heat the oven for me," he said smoothly as his fingers spread a long sheet of brown parchment.

"Now then, thin and rectangular," he commented as he rolled it out again with the pin so it was an even thickness. With the pastry scraper he cut each piece toproper size and placed them on a silver tray which Faustus had taken the liberty of lining with parchment. "8 minutes in the oven and then I can plate," he stated. He slipped the pastry sheet into the oven and watched them turn a golden brown. They were perfect, flaky, yet not dry, just what he needed. "Where did you go to college?" asked Faustus after a moment, his English accent was thick and he sounded partially bored.

Sebastian hummed and crossed his arms before leaning on the counter. He had a few minutes before he officially pulled the tray, " _Le Cordon Bleu_ in Paris, I attended their pastry school," he responded nonchalantly. A number of chefs when to _Le Cordon Bleu_ to learn pastries, however, it didn't mean they were any good. What mattered was the taste, and skill.

**Desert 1: Strawberry Mille Feuille and "Little Masters" Part I**

The owner sat in silence, "He's been in there for over thirty minutes," moaned the young man. The bartender had returned with another pot of tea. It was steaming hot, and the slate haired 20 year old sighed. "Alois, join me," he said as he pointed to the seat beside him. The blond looked at him with large sky blue eyes and grinned before chirping, "You look like you are waiting to meet a blind date, he's certainly cute enough."

He sighed and dipped his head; this was going to be the 13th pastry chef who interviewed for the position. Sadly, he couldn't go without a pastry chef, desert was one of the things which he was known for and had already devoted a great deal of money to the state of the art facilities, wines and coffees to compliment the sweets, as well as the fact that he had a major sweet tooth. "This better be the best damn pastry of the century or I'm going to toss him out on his head for making me wait," he grumbled before taking a sip of tea. The bubbly bartender sighed and looked at him, "It's ashamed he will reside in the kitchen he's so hot he would attract every man and women into your restaurant," he commented as he looked at the owner. The slate haired twenty year old groaned, and rubbed his temples. He didn't want to be known for attractive staff he wanted to be known for the food.

The doors of the kitchen opened, and the young man smiled as he watched the chef saunter over with a white plate. "I apologize for the wait," said the chef smoothly as he placed the plate on the table. His sapphire blue eye widened as he looked at the plate, it was so simple, a _Mille Feuille_ , he had been served soufflé after soufflé, tarts, truffles, cakes, but no one served this simple classic. "A Strawberry _Mille Feuille_?" he asked in confusion as he looked at the sugary treat. His eyes narrowed, this had to be a joke, there wasn't much required to make _a Mille Feuille_ , and he knew that. There was frozen dough in the back waiting to be thawed and cut. He looked up to see a slender and rather beautiful looking chef, his eyes widened as he looked at his raven black hair and high cheek bones. His features were beautiful, in fact he looked like he belonged on the cover of magazines and not the kitchen.

His burgundy red eyes were welcoming, "Yes, I though it would be a welcome change," responded the chef, his voice was smooth like velvet. It caressed the young man's ears and made his heart pound. There was no way a beauty like him was a chef. His black chef's coat didn't have a speck of flour on it which made him wonder if the man had even bother to make the pastry from scratch. "I see, you are aware that you are applying for a job at a four Michelin star restaurant correct?" asked the young man curtly. Alois stared in confusion, "Ciel, you haven't even tasted it," whispered Alois in confusion.

Ciel sighed as he looked at the plate and pushed it away from him, "I don't have to, and I'm looking for a pro, not a second-rate. I could buy this in a supermarket if I wanted to," spat Ciel. He watched the chef stiffen, he wasn't sure if it was from irritation or fear, he was nearly impossible to read. "Get him out of here, clearly he just wants to waste my time," barked Ciel as he waved the man away. Sebastian gaped at him, "You haven't even tasted it," he stated with anger.

Ciel hugged as he crossed his arms and glared at the young man, "I don't have to, it's not what I wanted," he responded snidely. He didn't want to be made a fool of by a man who seemed to look down on him. Sebastian's red eyes narrowed, it was clear Ciel had struck a chord in the chef. "Then perhaps you should have actually ordered me to make something," he responded harshly. Ciel laughed coolly and pointed at the door, "I told you to make something I would want to eat, I don't want this," he stated, "Get out."

Sebastian sighed and shook his head, "I get it, but you should taste it. Who knows you may actually like something that isn't smother in chocolate, or are you still a brat?" asked Sebastian with a dark grin. Faustus was staring at Sebastian, his face was composed but his golden eyes were wide with shock, what little of it he could show on his stone face. Ciel was trembling with anger; no one ever spoke to him like that. Without another word Sebastian walked back into the kitchen, "Have a good day, young master," he called before slipping into the sanctuary of the kitchen. Ciel sat there dumb founded, "Whoa, Ciel no one has ever said something like that to you," said Alois in shock.


	2. Desert 1: Mille Feuille and “Little Masters”: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ciel has kicked Sebastian to the curb, Claude urges the young man to at least taste the dish. With a great deal of irritation the young man does, only to discover something he never dreamed possible. 
> 
> Perhaps there was a way to taste heaven...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are familiar with the work, it was originally posted on FF.N. This version is the same with a few adjustments, mainly spelling and grammar. So enjoy, and for those of you who read it the first time... don't spoil it!

 

The slate haired owner hissed and was about to chuck the plate at Faustus when he finally picked up a silver dessert fork. “Get out of here you creepy spider,” barked Ciel. He had never been so embarrassed in his life, not even Faustus dared to say things like that to him. He was Vincent Phantomhive’s son, the owner of Funtom toys and Phantom Enterprises and Holdings. His mother was the belle of the ball, a socialite who could get just about anything done, the pair together were unstoppable. He was a noble among the rich and powerful, never in his life had he been called a brat.

 

“Hey Ciel, let it go, we can always find someone else,” Alois commented. Ciel leaned back in his chair and grumbled, “Yes of course, 14th time’s the charm,” he hissed before tossing the silver fork on the table. It landed with a clatter as it barely missed the beautifully plated tower called a _Mille Feuille_.

 

Presentation wise it was gorgeous; the flaky thin pastry was a beautiful golden brown, lightly dusted with sugar. Each layer was put together with an alternating pattern between small strawberries and tufts of cream. The strawberry puree was streaked on the plate to give it a little color and a single succulent strawberry rested on the top of the tower. Alois picked up the fork and asked, “If you’re not going to eat it, can I try it?” Ciel waved his hand and nodded, “Knock yourself out.”

 

Faustus bowed before turning on his heel and returning to the kitchen. He didn’t think the young chef would have that kind of mouth on him. Then again Sebastian had responded curtly to him in the kitchen when they spoke. Standing at the station which was now clean, oddly Sebastian had the curiously to clean it which surprised him a little, he watched the young man pack up his clean utensils. He adjusted his silver rimed glasses and looked at the second tower of a _Mille Feuille_ which rested on the table. “I made too much, throw it out if you want,” Sebastian muttered as he slipped his pastry edge into the black bag.

 

Faustus was silent as he watched the man pack his things, there was something wrong with this picture. Sebastian didn’t look sad, more like he was fed up, irritated and honestly exhausted. Most chefs looked crestfallen after facing the merciless Ciel. “You know, they told me in school that when I got into the world critics would be harsh, but one would think that they would taste the dish before cutting you to piece,” growled Sebastian as he zipped the bag closed. It was only then Faustus realized Ciel hadn’t tasted it, “It’s cruel out there,” he commented as he watched the raven haired chef swing his knife bag over his shoulder. Sebastian heaved a sigh and looked at Faustus, his shoulders dropped and he ran his hand through his black hair. “Well it was nice to give it a try, even if the little master didn’t appreciate it,” he commented before turning around and disappearing through the back entrance.

 

Once the pastry chef disappeared from view Claude turned his attention to the second plate of _Mille Feuille_. It was perfectly plated, pleasing to the eye and looked delicious. He began to wonder what Ciel was thinking by refusing to simply taste it. Claude reached into the pocket of his chef’s coat and pulled out a silver fork. “It would be a waste to throw away a _Millie Fleur_ this beautiful,” he commented. The fork slipped through the pastry cleanly and he noticed the number of flaky layers in the dough. The sweet smell of vanilla, strawberries and cream filled his nose as he took a bite. His eyes widened as he looked at the dish, “So that is what you are capable of,” he whispered before taking another bite. He had gravely underestimated the chef who had been in the kitchen.  He rose from his stool and walked toward the door, Alois was going to taste it, that would be a waste. The desert was meant for Ciel, he could tell from the taste.

 

Claude walked out of the kitchen and stood before the pair, “What the hell are you doing out here Claude, shouldn’t you be preparing for this evening?” asked Ciel curtly. Alois paused and looked at the head chef. Claude drew a deep breath, he knew he would pay for this later, but he couldn’t stand watching talent wasted, even if it was in the form of the arrogant Sebastian Michaelis. “Ciel, I think you should at least taste it,” said Claude after a moment. There was silence in the dining room, “He wasted my time in there, there was frozen dough in the freezer,” Ciel spat. Claude sighed, he could still remember how Sebastian worked the dough by hand and folded it with ease.

 

There was no way that puff pastry could be mistaken as frozen, even when looked at. “Just taste it, you’ll see why,” Claude urged Ciel. The young man sighed before picking the fork from Alois’ fingers and dipping into the pastry. His eyes widened as he cleanly cut into it, there were flaky layers and he noticed the cream had some body to it. It was a beautiful golden brown all the way through, most of the time the frozen dough was over cooked or soggy. He lifted the fork to his lips and froze, his sapphire eye fell to the plate, and he looked shocked and confused for a moment. “This is a _Mille Feuille_?” he asked after a moment as he looked at the dish. Claude nodded and watched as the young man chewed and swallowed before taking another bite.

 

The pastry was perfect it was flaky yet melted in the mouth when chewed. It wasn’t doughy, wet or heavy; the pastry was light, fluffy and ever so wonderful. The cream was light and airy, yet maintained some body. It wasn’t too sweet and the vanilla hadn’t overpowered it. The covered strawberries finished it off with a little zing, “What would this be paired with?” asked Ciel after a moment as he tapped the tip of the fork to his lips.

 

Claude smiled and picked up the tin of Earl Gray Tea, “This or coffee,” he remarked. Ciel was silent, it was apparent at that moment the young man was wrong; Sebastian did make something he wanted to eat. Alois purred after popping a piece in his mouth, “This is amazing, Ciel why did you tell him to get out?” Claude’s golden eyes were locked on Ciel, they were fierce and filled with the same heat as the fires of the kitchen ovens. “You are a fool to push him out,” said Claude coldly, “He could bring us back to the forefront.”

 

Ciel paused, he could tell the young man was thinking this over, “It would be nice to be the frontrunner,” Ciel mused. Claude smiled a little, he would never tell Sebastian that he had convinced Ciel to allow him to work there. Yet, he couldn’t allow the chef who reminded him of the power of food to simply walk out. Perhaps a little more fire in the kitchen would be good, it had been a while since _Ciel_ had seen this kind of action. “Claude, go call up that bastard of a pastry chef,” Ciel groaned, “Tell him he’s got the job.” Claude nodded and walked up to Soma who already had the file out. The head chef sighed as he dialed the number and muttered, “Michaelis, you better thank me for this.”

 

~~xXx~~

 

The wind blew down the river and Sebastian shivered as he leaned on one of the banisters of the Millennium Bridge. He had never been treated in such a way; he was the best of his class at _Le Cordon Bleu_ , known for his meticulous methods and execution. He sighed as he ran one of his hands through his messy ink black hair, “I was a fool to think I would find a job in London, I should have stayed in Paris,” he muttered. There, he could have worked in any pastry shop, a small quiet shop on a corner. He had dreamed of such a shop, however with the debts his father had accumulated, that wasn’t possible. He would have to settle for working in a restaurant like _Ciel_. It was a shame, Ciel was such a beautiful place and the owner was just as gorgeous.

 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the loud ring of his phone. It made the young chef jump a little, he wasn’t expecting a call. In factit seemed far too odd to have a phone call in the middle of the day, since a majority of his friends worked at night and was usually asleep this hour of the day. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, he didn’t recognize the number. It was probably another debt collector; he pressed answer and lifted the chunky black device to his ear. “Hello, this is Sebastian Michaelis,” he said almost robotically.

 

He braced himself in case it was another debt collector. “Ah, Mr. Michaelis, this is Chef Faustus from _Ciel_. I’m calling to inform you that you have the job,” the caller said smoothly. Sebastian’s red eyes widened with shock, he had been so unprofessional and went as far as to storm out of the back door. He was actually going to work at _Ciel_. “What?” he asked in shock, his hand covered his lips as an infectious smile curved them. “I said you’ve been hired, oddly enough your _Millie Fleur_ impressed him to the point that he decided you were the only one for the job,” stated the head chef. Sebastian’s heart swelled a little, he did make the right decision. He smiled brightly as he looked out over the horizon, “I see, thank you for calling me, when do I start?” he asked curiously.

 

There was a paused and Sebastian could hear Mr. Faustus talking to someone in the background, “How about tomorrow?” he asked after a moment. Sebastian was about to jump and scream yes with glee, however, that would be just about as professional as when he stormed out of the kitchen earlier. “I can do that, what time?” he asked after a moment. Different restaurants opened their doors in the morning at different times for chefs to come in and prepare. “Since I am relatively unfamiliar with pastries I would like you to be there at 9 am, to pick out the supplies you need from our grower,” responded Faustus. Sebastian nodded as he hummed; he forgot that the golden eyed chef couldn’t see him. “Sure, thank you so much,” said Sebastian happily.

 

Perhaps things would work out. Faustus sighed and responded, “Don’t be late,” prior to hanging up. Sebastian was happy he had received the job only to realize that he was now going to have to deal with the Head Chef, C. Faustus. Faustus didn’t seem like a bad guy, he was just irritating; his constant jabs at Sebastian’s decisions drove him up the wall. Yet, he was no where near as insulting as the 20 year old owner Ciel Phantomhive.

 

Naturally Sebastian had heard the name, everyone who was in cuisine had. The 20 year old restaurant owner was known for his tight ship and elegant style. He had started the restaurant in a response to a column in the Starr. They had been going after Vincent Phantomhive and his lack of knowledge of wine and French cuisine, _Ciel_ was going down hill. When it had first opened Vincent opened it as a hobby and named it after his son. Oddly they had managed to gain 5 Michelin stars after being open for a year. It was known as a gem in the crown of London and even made the French incessantly jealous.

 

The only issue was after the recession fewer and fewer people could afford to eat out. This caused a decrease in revenue which inadvertently affected the food. Ciel from what Sebastian had read was going to bring the restaurant out of the ashes and turn it into the once again the most highly respected restaurant in London. The snag was he was difficult to deal with. In fact, none of the papers had mentioned his rotten personality, which was something that Sebastian was irritated with. Even if he was a successful businessman, he should never treat a chef like that.

 

Then again, he must have done something right, he was hired for a Millie Fleur. He paused when he remembered Ceil hadn’t eaten it,  he must have tasted it after Sebastian had left. At the table the young man didn’t seem too keen on eating it, part of him wondered why the young man had even bothered with it. He didn’t seem the least bit interested when the dish was placed before him. “No let’s not over think this, be happy you have the job you ponse,” he whispered before walking down the Millennium Bridge toward a brighter future. Or at least that’s what he thought. 


	3. Desert 2: Une Tranche de l’ Enfer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sebastian's first day at Ciel, and boy is he in for it. Not only does Claude seem more stressed than usual, but as always, Ciel is asking for the impossible. How will the new chef fare in this kitchen and just what is going to happen to his desserts?

It was early that morning, the sun hadn’t even touched the horizon and the sound of water falling onto the cold floor of a shower could be heard. The flat was very small with a large room which doubled for a living room when the futon was put away, a kitchen and a bathroom. It was cramped, poorly insulated and the windows leaked when it rained. Yet it was home, well to Sebastian, it was. He had lived in dorms for years as he studied in Paris, his room was actually a little larger then, not by much though. Sebastian slipped his fingers through his black hair to rinse the soap away; his eyes were closed as he tipped his head back and hummed. Today was his first day working under C. Faustus, he still didn’t know much about the man but figured it was a good idea to get there early and familiarize himself with the layout of the kitchen so he didn’t get lost once again. It was bad enough the day before he had relied on the chef to show him where everything was.

 

Sebastian’s slender hands slipped down his body as he finished washing away the body wash he had used. The water ran over his toned back and hips, he wasn’t the most muscular of men but he was stronger than he looked. He hummed as he turned the shower off and slicked his hair back, before slipping out of the shower. The owner wasn’t the nicest either; fortunatelyhe would only have to face the head chef, as long as he didn’t mess up. Ciel didn’t seem to care that he had offended Sebastian, inface he didn’t even seem to notice that he had. He proceeded to wrapping a fluffy white towel which smelled of lavender around his waist and drying the rest of his body with the second one which was beside it on the towel bar. The bathroom mirror was fogged and he groaned before swiping his hand across it and looking at his reflection. “Relax it’s just a kitchen, if you can survive Chef Ramsay you can survive Faustus,” he muttered to himself before continuing his morning ritual.

 

Like clockwork he was dressed in a pair of sauté pants, his chef’s coat, carrying his bag, with his bike over his shoulder and out the door in under half an hour. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps his bicycle was on the sidewalk, he was fortunate to have his Linus Roadster 8. It was old and had been painted twice; he had to do the brake cables a few times, and had whipped out more than once when learning how to deal with Parisian traffic. He looked at the bright red bicycle and chuckled, he had purchased it from a man claiming it was French made; clearly he had missed the insignia stating it was made in China. His hair was still damp; he had managed to get it dry enough to clip back to keep his bangs from getting in his eyes. Sebastian looked up at the sky and noticed the sun was out and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, “A sunny day in London, I must be in for a good day,” he mused as he.

 

He slowly rolled the bike down the sidewalk and swung his leg over the seat. The wind was cool and the street lamps were slowly going out as the sun slipped over the horizon. London wasn’t as beautiful as Paris, however it was spectacular in it’s own way. He jumped off the sidewalk and into the road to get through the traffic circle. His arm held out in the direction he was turning and he waited patiently as he got off. Cycling on the wrong side of the road still scared the daylights out of him. Sebastian had nearly been hit by a car on day one, fortunately the car’s owner was nice enough to tell him about the position at _Ciel_ after learning he was a pastry chef. Oddly he was a rather old looking man in what appeared to be the dress of a footman. He had a pair of circular glasses and spoke French, which made the experience a little easier to remember. He was handed _Ciel_ ’s card and told to try his hand there, perhaps he would be the chef for the job.

 

Sebastian turned down an ally to cross the block until he found himself gliding to the back entrance of the restaurant. He was an hour early, yet, the kitchen wasn’t empty. He spotted a black sports car parked in the parking lot in the back. He stared at the glossy Jaguar and sighed, “In my dreams,” he whispered before dismounting the bicycle and carrying it up the back steps. Once he had managed to do so he opened the doors to the wondrous kitchen. It was spotless, not a crumb on the counters, nor stain on the floor. Every pot was hanging on the rack and glistened in the morning light. His eyes glided over to the industrial ovens and the doors to the walk ins. Even the door to the pantry was closed, he hummed as he continued his journey. His fingers trailed against the counters as he walked through the kitchen, “Heaven, this must be it,” he whispered as he looked around the warm kitchen.

 

The door of the walk in opened as Faustus stepped out, several buttons of his coat were unfastened and his hat was gone. His silver rimmed glasses were resting on the top of his head and he was looking at a clip board, “Onions,” he muttered as he swiftly wrote something down. “Good morning,” said Sebastian softly which caused the chef’s head to snap up and look at him. Those golden eyes seemed to find their target and narrowed before he slipped his glasses over his nose. “Ah, Michaelis I didn’t see you there,” he stated. Of course Sebastian was hoping they would have a normal relationship, however, that didn’t seem to be in the cards. Faustus was already calling him Michaelis, in that cool and clipped tone. “You’re early, no matter, I’ll show you where you will be working,” he stated as he slipped the clipboard under his arm and gestured for the chef to follow. “You will be working away from the rest of us, for two reasons. The first being that pastries require a great deal of precious counter space and oven space, and the second we usually farm out the chef and have him take catering jobs such as wedding cakes,” he stated.

 

Sebastian stared in confusion, “It’s just me?” he asked after a moment and gaped at Claude. That was an impossibly tall order to fill, “Yes, if you can’t do it I suggest you quit now and spare us all the embarrassment,” Faustus stated coldly. Sebastian grit his teeth, he wasn’t about to loose face to this man, “No I will do it,” he responded. A smirk curved the golden eyed chef’s lips as he grew uncomfortably closer to Sebastian. “Good to hear, just remember our reputation is at stake here,” he said flatly as he looked directly at Sebastian. The raven haired chef simply nodded and made a mental note to not irritated the head chef.

 

“Claude?” called a curious voice, Sebastian was confused for a moment. Faustus backed away and pivoted on his heel, his long fingers swept through his hair as he did so to put it back in place. “Yes Finnian, I was speaking to our newest member of the crew,” he stated as he walked into the main section of the kitchen. Sebastian paused, the man’s name was Claude, Claude Faustus. He paused and looked at him, “It can’t be,” he whispered as he watched the broad shouldered head chef stand before the small boy. The boy had short blond hair which was clipped in place with red pins, a broad brimmed straw sun hat resting on his back and a pair of stained work gloves on his hands. His eyes were wide and seemed to sparkle as he told Claude about the produce.

 

Sebastian’s mind slipped into overdrive, he knew the name, yet he couldn’t seem to place it. It was so familiar, “Meet Pastry Chef, Sebastian Michaelis,” said Claude loudly as he gestured to Sebastian. He snapped out of it and slowly approached the short gardener, “Oh how wonderful! A new cook!” the boy exclaimed. Claude sighed in exasperation and shook his head, “No chef, not cook,” he corrected the young man. It was quite clear this young man had called everyone in the kitchen a cook. Part of Sebastian could understand Claude’s irritation when it came to formalities, it made a massive difference when talking about the pecking order of a kitchen. The back doors opened again and Sebastian stared in shock at a woman dress in tight black leather with long white hair and violet eyes. She had a motorcycle helmet under her arm and a knife bag in her free hand.

 

“Good morning,” she commented with a quick nod before wandering into the locker room. “Good Morning, Hannah,” Claude said sternly. Sebastian’s eyes wandered over her, he could see her wide hips, large bust and trim waste had been encased in leather. It was apparent she wasn’t wearing a stitch under them except panties and a cami. She gave him a sideways glance as she walked by, he had the feeling he wasn’t welcome here.

 

Sebastian shuddered violently at the thought of the woman working with him, “Good Morning,” Sebastian added with a polite smile. She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Claude, “How long is this useless Patisserie Cook going to stay?” Sebastian’s eyes widened, she certainly was dripping in sensuality, however her disposition was repulsive. “Until he decides to quit or Ciel fires him,” replied Claude with a shrug, once this was in the air he turned his attention to the grower with the list.

 

Three chefs who looked identical entered as well, each of them had a different color armband on. Sebastian rubbed his eyes unconsciously, he didn’t remember drinking anything and he wasn’t hung over. It wasn’t until they stopped before Claude that he realized they were real. “Color coded for convenience,” commented Sebastian as he looked at the three purple haired chefs. Each of them had amber brown eyes and were relatively short. “Morning boss,” said the one with a green band. “Good Morning Head Chef,” rang the second, there was a red band around his arm. Even their voices were similar, it was slightly unnerving. “Your glasses are dirty,” said the third as he pointed at the silver rimmed frames on Claude’s face. Claude plucked the glasses from his nose and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe them. “Thank you, Thompson,” he remarked as he cleaned them and then placed them on his nose.

 

Thompson nodded and shuffled away, “Canterbury, Timber, check and see if Alistair is here. I need to know what’s in _le Cav_ , we have VIPs coming and they have specific favorites,” he stated. Sebastian paused and looked at Claude; he was talking about a wine cellar and using the proper French name for it. Perhaps this man did know his stuff. “Right away,” said one of them before vanishing. “Michaelis! Ciel wants to see you,” called a familiar voice. It was the short blond with sky blue eyes from the day before. “Alois, he’s still prepping,” commented Claude as he looked up from the list. Alois shrugged and responded, “It’s Ciel, since when is he reasonable?” he asked sarcastically.

 

Claude groaned and nodded, “Go Michaelis,” he breathed before turning back to Finnian. Sebastian nodded as he walked over to Alois and followed the young man. “Ciel is being a bit difficult, just hang in there,” said Alois after a moment. His hands were behind his back as he walked and oddly he hips swayed in a manner which reminded Sebastian of a French prostitute. “Is he always difficult?” asked Sebastian after a moment as he looked at the blond. Alois sighed and shrugged, “He’s been like that for a while, he’s busy proving himself to Vincent. He’s always been like that,” he commented.

 

Sebastian hummed after a moment, he didn’t know he had a father until recently when debt collectors came knocking on his door. “Always?’ he asked hesitantly as he followed Alois across the dining room. “Pretty much, I’ve known him since High School,” responded the bubbly bartender as he stopped before a large wooden door. “This is his office,” he commented before knocking on the door.

 

“Enter,” called a cool voice before Sebastian could open the door. Sitting in a large chair in front of a window behind a massive mahogany desk was Ciel Phantomhive. “You wanted to see me,” said Sebastian nervously as he heard the door latch behind him. The vague parallel of goliath being tossed into the lions den came to him. He wasn’t interested in seeing the nasty streak in his employer. “Yes,” he said smoothly as he placed the pages he had been reading flat on the desk and clasped his hands together. The bright blue gem in his thumb ring which represented the family crest glistened in the light as a smirk curved his lips. “I would like to introduce you to the dinners through a special dish,” he said stated as his sapphire blue eyes were locked on Sebastian. He really didn’t have anywhere to run, “What kind of dish?” asked the chef after a moment. Before he thought Ciel would rip him a new one, now he simply seemed interested in showing off his newest employee. “A cake, as for the type and taste you figure that out. You have all day before opening to decide on what to make and execute it in time for the dinner rush,” he stated.

 

Sebastian nodded in acknowledgement, he was about to walk out when Ciel cleared his throat and continued, “If you don’t do well tonight, I will fire you,” he stated bluntly. He knew that clause had to be thrown in there; burgundy red eyes glanced back at a pair of dancing sapphires. This man wasn’t joking, “Unless you can’t do it,” said Ciel with a broad grin. Sebastian shook his head as he mustered up what little confidence he had left and responded, “That’s not an issue. I will make it a beautiful desert. Just for you,” he said with a smile. Ciel nodded and waved his hand to dismiss the chef, “Little Master,” muttered Sebastian as he left Ciel’s office. His request was unreasonable, in such a short period of time he was expected to come up with something extravagant. Something which would reflect who he was as a chef and potentially put Ciel, back on the map.

 

~~xXx~~

 

He spent the rest of the afternoon making pastry dough, fillings and prepping for the rush. He could hear the other chefs conversing in the other section of the kitchen, “Did you see the new Patisserie?” asked Canterbury. Sebastian walked through the kitchen and entered the walk in to grab another carton of heavy cream. “Oh you mean pretty boy?” asked a new voice. It was rather loud and slightly irritating, “He’s super young to be working here, I mean hell Claude is what 35?” he asked.

 

Sebastian was carrying the carton, he stared at the gentleman leaning against the counter. He had dark brown hair which was parted and combed back. His green eyes pierced through a pair of rectangular black metal frames, “I was 25 when I became one of the top Sommeliers in London,” he commented as he adjusted his glasses with his black gloved fingers. Standing next to him was a rather tall man with long red hair that was tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, he was wearing a pair of heels, tight pants and a bright red vest. There was a set of red glasses on his nose and he smiled brightly. “Well he looks delicious but I wonder if he can really cook,” commented the red head. The Sommelier shot him a dirty look, “Sutcliff, do you have to flirt with everything?” he asked as he crossed his arms and glared.

 

Sutcliff huffed and looked at him before fixing his hair, “Oh come on, he is delicious looking. I wouldn’t mind tasting him,” he gushed. Sebastian involuntarily shivered; the red head was starting to frighten him. He had met plenty of gays beforebut transvestites were a different story. One too many of them had tried to get him to screw them.

 

The kitchen fell silent when the door closed and there was a loud snap. “Back to work we open in a few hours and I want this place ready to go,” barked a familiar voice. His tone was ice cold and Sebastian stared at Claude. He was dressed in his black jacket with his hat on. He looked stunning in black; his golden eyes pierced each and every one of the chefs, a silent threat to those who weren’t working. “Spears, I’d like to look at the wine selections for the evening, we have several specials to be served,” Claude commented as Ronald followed the head chef.

 

Sebastian returned to his preparations, it sounded like a mad dash in the rest of the kitchen. As they created rues, sliced veritable and began basting meets, Sebastian was making a variety of cakes and bases. His oven was roaring as he continued to bake each sheet and pop them out. He could feel a cold gaze on him from time to time. He figured the Head Chef would simply observe. “A _Raspberry Tranche_?” asked a familiar velvety voice, Sebastian looked up to see a look of genuine curiosity on Claude’s face. His eyes were locked on the raspberry filling Sebastian was using to put the stripes down the cake. “Yes,” responded Sebastian as he finished the stripe and turned his attention to the icing.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were going to make this,” Claude stated, his voice gained a cool edge, which cut through the pastry chef like a knife.

 

“I was asked to by owner,” he stammered in confusion.

 

Claude blanched and stared at Sebastian, “That was why he called you to his office?” he asked angrily. His golden eyes flickered dangerously as they narrowed, his gaze was heavy and he felt as though he were going to be stabbed with a knife. “Yes,” responded Sebastian slowly. The golden eyed chef drew a deep breath and looked at the rest of the staff, “Why must he do this, he should have informed me, and you know better,” spat Claude, his words were dripping with venom as he thought of a way to execute this. “Knox! I need Spears, now! We need a list of coffees and teas to be pared with the owner’s whim!” he barked. It looked as though the Head Chef were going to kill the Pastry Chef.

 

His eyes floated over the bench and he noticed five cakes completed, “That’s not merely enough,” he stated bluntly. Something flickered in Claude’s eyes for a moment he looked panicked and then it slowly vanished as that cool façade returned. Chefs clamored to prepare what they had to, “Get the ovens lit!” he called. “Yes chef!” called a young woman. He turned to Sebastian and hissed, “Pull it together or I will kick you out personally.” Sebastian shuttered as he watched the man walk away, it was clear that this place was far from heaven, it was hell with a beautiful façade.

 

~~xXx~~

 

Sebastian finished making several batches of ice cream and fillings. His eyes widened as the orders flew in, each chef worked with expert speed and skill, “Hot Pan!” shouted one loudly as they dashed across the room behind another chef. Each one of them worked like a well oiled Swiss clock, with Claude as it’s keeper. He floated from station to station nit-picking, adjusting, demanding and more often then not attempting to save something. “This is shit, throw it out and start again,” he stated angrily, his voice would be heard through the kitchen which made Sebastian jump. His red eyes flittered over to the violet haired chef, he was yelling at the woman who had come in decked in leather. There was a golden spoon in his hands and he was glaring at the pot of what looked like a reduction of some kind.

 

“The consistency is wrong and you’ve burned the bottom. Start again, this time watch what you’re doing,” he stated as he rinsed the golden spoon in the sink and slipped it back into his pocket. Hannah glared at him before dumping it and beginning again, “Fucking Spider,” she hissed. Claude didn’t stop however his eyes shifted to the side, Sebastian was beginning to wonder if he had superhuman hearing. He sighed and shook his head, “You called?” asked a stiff voice from before, standing in a brilliant three piece suit with an Aqua tie was Spears. He was standing before Claude and seemed to have very little interest in being called on. Once a restaurant was open the front of the house was expected to stay there, it was clear not many people were ordering wine or asked for the assistance of the sommelier.

 

Claude snapped his fingers and jabbed his finger at Sebastian, “Work your magic,” he grunted before returning to his tirade on the poor performance of chefs. William hummed and nodded, he had a beautiful stride and seemed to dominate the floor as he moved, he wasn’t as intimidating as Claude who towered over the others and had a gaze which froze kings, but close. The slender man came to a stop before Sebastian’s table, his eyes glided over the deserts which had been made, “A Raspberry Tranche, I haven’t seen one of those served here in a long time,” he mused. Sebastian looked up for a moment and nodded, “William T. Spears, _Master_ _Sommelier_ ,” he stated firmly, it was as though they were at a business meeting and he was meeting the other party for the first time. “Sebastian Michaelis, the new _Pậtissier_ ,” he responded with a nod.

 

William picked up a knife, there was a plate in his hand which he had lifted from the drain, and asked, “Which one may I sample?” Sebastian paused and picked up his edge in moments one of the cakes was sliced into a thin piece, “I didn’t think you wanted a full serving,” he commented. He watched the man nodded and slowly pull a silver fork, part of Sebastian wondered if everyone in this establishment walked around with forks or spoons in their pockets. He didn’t put it past Claude though, being Head Chef meant he had to taste every dish before it left his kitchen.

 

The Sommelier slipped the fork between his lips and stared at the cake, a low groan left his lips as a smiled curved his lips. Sebastian picked up the pastry bag again and continued to ice a cake. “So this was what he was raving about,” muttered William as he placed the fork down and looked at Sebastian. “I know what to pair it with, I’ll tell the Head Chef to relax,” he responded before walking away with the plate and fork in hand.

 

~~xXx~~

 

An hour passed and the kitchen was filled with the clamor of chefs dashing about, making last minute orders and compensating for something going wrong. Plating, cooking, slicing and dicing all seemed to happen at the same time as Sebastian worked dough for another desert. There was a pause as the Head Waiter called, “Chef!” Claude’s head snapped in his direction and he continued, “Angelina Durless, the food critic is out there,” he stated. The kitchen stilled and Claude walked over to him, it was as though he had seen a ghost. He approached the doors and looked out to the crowd, sure enough she was perched in one of the chairs. “What does she want?” asked the golden eyed head chef hesitantly. The blond head waiter sighed and responded, “Something different for dessert.” There was a pause, she must have heard the rumor about the new pastry chef.

 

The Head Chef looked like a deer caught at the head lights, “How on earth did she?” he paused and came to the realization that Ciel had probably invited her to dinner. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, he hadn’t even had a chance to taste Sebastian’s desert. He always checked every dish, “What did you tell her?” he asked after a moment. Ronald groaned and responded, “I told her I would ask you!” Claude hissed as he looked at Sebastian, his eyes were locked on the cake, “Serve the Raspberry Tranche, and tell William to serve the wine he chose,” replied Claude after a moment. He felt insecure about allowing it to leave the kitchen without a proper taste.

 

Sebastian was in his own world preparing two orders of Pittiet Fours. “Okay go,” barked Sebastian to the waiters, he watched them twist and leave the kitchen it was as though they had Apperated, he was quite impressed. Oddly the crazy red head was set in work mode and hadn’t made any other off the walls comments about his looks. “Dessert order!” cried a blond waiter, he had a pair of glasses on his nose he looked young energetic but serious about his work. “I need 2 orders of the Raspberry Tranche Cake!” he called. Sebastian dashed off and lifted one of the glass domes, he was glad to have had the time to ice the cake and make sure it set correctly. In moments it was on a tranche board and being sliced, he plated it with a beautiful raspberry streak on the bottom of the plate and nodded to the Head Waiter. Sebastian looked up to see how Claude’s eyes were locked on the waiter as he vanished. He was standing at the door looking out the window, he was thankful the chef hadn’t caught him ogling.

 

After a moment the waiter returned and turned his attention to Claude, Sebastian couldn’t make out what was being said, he simply hoped he hadn’t messed up. He had altered the recipe to suit his taste and who he was as a chef. The waiter was beaming with satisfaction and returned to the floor, Sebastian’s hands stopped moving as his eyes fell on Claude. He seemed confident and returned to his post, it was odd for a moment he could have sworn he had seen the man actually smile. “Let’s go Pâttisier! I don’t have all day!” called the very same loud and obnoxious voice from that morning. The redhead was standing before him and glaring, “You know you’re hot but slow,” he commented and hummed as he watched Sebastian finish plating. This place was hell, hot, fast paced and demanding. “Yes sorry! Go!” he shouted as he shooed the waiter away.

 

~~xXx~~

 

The night was hell, ovens roaring, chefs running and Sebastian felt as though he were going to collapse. It was only now he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, he had snuck an egg in and a little toast. In all honesty he didn’t want to see food at this moment; he simply wanted to find a place to crash. He was still upset about being screamed at by Claude. He knew he was bound to make a few mistakes, however, that was a large one. One which he should have never made.

 

His shoulders dropped as he sighed, all of the other chefs had left, asking one another out for late drinks and going to enjoy the night. He was standing alone in an empty kitchen, “Who knew what looked like heaven on the outside was actuallyhell,” he commented as he slipped the rest of his tools in his bag. They were clean and he had finally finished cleaning his station and cleaning his scales. 

 

He paused and laughed, he knew better, “No, everyday is hell, even in the kitchen,” he whispered as he caught a glimpse of the scars which lined his wrists. He knew that, he drew a deep breath and rolled his sleeves down to leave. “Heaven is an illusion,” he whispered, “As is happiness.” His voice seemed to hover in the air as he left the kitchen, perhaps tomorrow would be better. 


	4. Dessert 4: Pats de None

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude is curious as to just who the Patissier is, and while he is keen to learn his secrets, he can't help but wonder if there is more to Sebastian than he sees. All the while he ends up with tolerating Alois only to see the raven in the marketplace. Naturally he attempts to follow him, only to reach the Patissier and learn a little more than he ever expected to.

**Chapter 5: Dessert 4: _Pats de None_**

 

Alois groaned as he slowly sat up in bed and looked at his partner from the night before, another nameless man who wasn’t that great of a lay. Light poured through the open window as he stretched and popped his back. That evening he hooked up with a handsome gentleman who had just divorced his wife and wanted a little fun. He sighed as he slipped out of bed and picked up his mobile. He ran a hand through his messy blond hair as he turned it on and took a look at the text. He hummed before looking at the man who was laying face down on his bed, snoring like a wood chipper. Alois had always joked about getting Claude to screw him, he didn’t think Ciel would encourage it. The thing which bothered him though was the fact that Alois wanted to hurt Sebastian. It honestly didn’t feel right, it was Sebastian’s whimsical comment which made a number of people chuckle and had flooded Twitter. He expected _Ciel_ to be busier than ever tonight because of it, a number of the guests were pleased to see a whimsical chef who enjoyed his craft.

 

Alois sighed as he got out of bed and walked over to his bathroom, Claude would never agree to sleep with him, he knew that. Yet, Ciel wanted him to, there had to be something else to it, Ciel didn’t simply play games without knowing the even card. That was how he was, he wasn’t a player he was the master of the game and Alois had to decide if this was really worth it. If he could get Claude to fall into his arms, he would get a case of tequila and the handsome Head Chef himself. He ran a comb through his hair and returned to his bedroom, either way he had to get that man out of his bed, “Rise and shine,” said Alois seductively as he leaned in the doorway with nothing on. Alois’ lay woke up and looked at him, “Get out, I have to work,” said Alois nastily. He had put on an angelic act the night before so he had a feeling that the gentleman in his bed was going to be confused. Sure enough, he was and stammered, “What?” Alois sighed as he threw the man’s pants at him and commented, “Sorry buddy, but you just weren’t good enough,” he stated before wrapping himself in a bright red silk Yukata and disappearing from the room.

 

He smiled as he heard the man curse at him and leave in a hurry. He picked up his mobile again and typed his reply to an ever so eager Ciel. “Okay then, I’ll play. If that means I can get closer to you,” he commented.

 

_ Alois Trancy: _

_Sounds like a plan._

 

He tapped the phone to his chin after hitting send. Perhaps he could get this to work in his favor. Even if it was just another game for Ciel, this could be a way for him to express what he had been thinking.

 

~~xXx~~

 

The sun was out again as Sebastian slowly walked through the Smithfield market in Central London. He enjoyed roaming around these markets, each of them had a wonderful selection of the freshest bread, cheeses, vegetables, and meats. The only thing was you have to know both how to bargain and what you were looking at. He was greeted by the smell of fresh bread and the color of produce, “Something light,” he commented as he slowly wandered through the colorful streets, looking at each stand. “This is heaven,” he breathed happily as he walked down the street and disappeared into the bustle of young men and women purchasing their goods.

 

In truth, he simply wanted to run away, the night before Claude had gotten too close. He wasn’t interested in the Head Chef knowing more about him, it made him nervous. He knew he was buried in debt and had a tainted background, he didn’t want Claude to know. He could be fired by the petty owner for simply having the wrong background. Regardless of his qualifications. It was bad enough Ciel seemed displeased that night at dinner, it was clear that he didn’t expect Sebastian to be prepared for just about anything. The ironic part was he failed to notice it wasn’t Sebastian’s coat. All of Sebastian’s chef’s jackets had his name embroidered on them, this one it was missing. He had borrowed a blank from Claude, it was slightly too large and he had to roll up the sleeves. Claude was much larger than he was, yet they managed to get it to work. He had no idea how broad the head chef’s shoulders were until he tried on the coat. It practically swam on him, yet Ciel didn’t notice this. He hummed as he remembered how those sapphire eyes narrowed when he asked Sebastian why he wasn’t covered in flour. They honestly looked irritated that his chef was presentable. “Such a difficult person,” he mumbled as he continued to look around.

 

 The murmur of individuals as he walked through the restaurant was still in his head. All of them admiring both his looks and skills. That night they had sold more dessert than even the head waiter could handle. Ronald was running to and fro with a tray of sweets and making quite a bit in tips. _“It’s rather bitter,”_ Claude’s voice was still buzzing and he paused. Sebastian knew they were bitter, it was intentional, or at least that’s what he thought. He sighed and shook his head until the scent of rosemary and thyme bread caught him. His feet came to a halt outside of the stall and he quickly picked up a piece, “How much?” he asked quickly as he looked over the bread.

 

~~xXx~~

 

Claude sighed and looked at his watch, the noise of people bargaining and arguing over the quality of produce echoed in his ears. In all honesty, he wanted to spend his time admiring succulent pieces of beef, golden brown loaves of bread and succulent tomatoes just ripe enough to cook with. “Where is he?” he groaned as he looked around for the blond who had called him out that morning. He couldn’t believe that he was assisting Alois in shopping, it honestly amazed him that he would get a phone call so early asking for assistance. “Claude!” cried a familiar voice which made the Head Chef jump, as always he was loud. A pair of scrawny arms wrapped around him, “Ah, it’s so good to see you!” he squealed with glee. Claude rolled his eyes as he wrenched Alois away from him.

 

“What’s this dire need to go shopping with me?” he asked sternly, he didn’t need Alois slowing him down. He wanted to get to admiring produce and select the best before it was gone. It was no secret this market was here and chefs from every restaurant in the area, as well as the locals, used it. “Wow, something smells delicious!” chimed Alois before he bounded off. For once he was in jeans and a tee with a light jacket, he wasn’t wearing the tight shorts or boots. At least today Claude could be seen with him and didn’t look like he had an escort hanging off of him, “Perhaps I will survive this,” he muttered as he went after Alois. He was standing by a stand which sold warm scones, “Oh I want the chocolate one!” he gushed. Claude sighed, of course, he wanted the sweetest one available. Alois was as bad as Ciel in this aspect, he had a serious sweet tooth and was always at risk for cavities. He honestly thought that the pair consumed more sugar than Sebastian cooked within an evening. Sebastian could probably make a scone which wasn’t as sweet, Claude paused when he realized he was thinking about the burgundy eyed raven haired chef. He shook his head and looked down at Alois who was handing the baker a few pence.

 

Claude crossed his arms and hummed only to catch a familiar profile, a mess of black hair, pale skin, high cheekbones, and burgundy red eyes. His lips quirked up as he watched Sebastian look over the bread and argue a price. He was impressed that he wasn’t slipping into french for this. The baker was animated as he attempted to make his case, only for Sebastian to do a rapid calculation in his head, and point out he was over priced when both time and materials as well as fuel were added in. The baker gaped at the Patissier and finally let him have the bread for the price he argued, regrettably. Claude chuckled as he watched Sebastian hand him the money and move on. “Claude, what are you looking at?” asked Alois curiously as he tugged on Claude’s shirt. He was so amused by Sebastian’s actions, he had forgotten about Alois, which impressed him. It was nearly impossible to forget about the boisterous blond beside him.

 

Claude wanted to know more about Sebastian, even if the man wouldn’t open up to him, he paused and hummed. If he followed Sebastian he would learn not only his particular taste but also his personality. “I was,” he paused and chuckled, “Admiring a rather beautiful blackbird.” Cerulean eyes looked up at the Head Chef and narrowed before shrugging and prancing off, thankfully it was in the same direction Sebastian had gone. It was as though he were playing a real life game of “Where’s Waldo.” The thrill and excitement drove the chef to look and see where the bird had flown. “Oh look, Claude, what are those?” he asked as he pointed. Claude followed his finger and looked at the stand, there was an assortment of smoked meats as well as sausages. Claude followed the blond as he asked the butcher about each item. “It’s chicken sausage,” responded the butcher. The blonde stared at him as though he were an alien. “Huh?” asked the blond in confusion as he looked at him, “Chicken.”

 

Alois looked at Claude and asked, “They make sausages out of chickens?” The head chef groaned and rubbed his forehead with his fingers, “Yes, they can use chicken to make sausages, they also use seafood and turkey,” he remarked. Alois’ eyes widened with wonder as he pointed at the pale white links. It was apparent his mind was blown and he remembered he was talking to someone who didn’t look at what he was eating, he just stuck it in his mouth to see if it tasted good. “How?” he asked after a moment and Claude looked at him. He started to wonder if he actually worked in a 4-star french restaurant. “Like they make normal sausage,” he responded. Alois looked at the sausage and hummed, Claude grit his teeth, he honestly looked like he was going to kill Alois. “Does it taste good?” he asked after a moment.

 

Claude stared at him as though he were an alien from another planet, “I don’t mind it, it’s really up to the person eating it,” he commented. Suddenly he was aching for Sebastian to come and save him from the blond bimbo. He hummed again and crossed his arms as he tapped his chin with his index finger, Claude began to get impatient and mutter, “Oh for the love of, I want 8 links of the Chicken Sausage, wrapped in paper and put on ice,” he called. The butcher nodded and was quick to carry out Claude’s order. “You know what, it’s too weird, I’ll stick with sausage from pigs,” he commented before walking away. Claude turned red with frustration and glared at the obnoxious blond before he skipped off, “Boyfriend?” asked the butcher as he handed Claude the package, there was a hint of pity in his voice as he asked. Claude sighed and pulled his wallet to pay the man, obviously he was eating chicken sausage for the next few days, “No, thankfully,” he stated as he handed the man a few folded bills and placed the package with an ice pack in his bag.

 

He scowered the crowded street for where Alois had run to, “Claude, Claude, look!” he cried and waved his arms as though he were flagging down a ship. Claude tilted his head to the side as he imagined the amount of chaos which would surround the blond as he directed ships in the harbor and sent signals. There wouldn’t be a single vessel afloat once he was finished, “Claude, it’s so cute!” he cried. Claude trudge along, he noticed how Alois’ cerulean eyes were glowing with curiosity and he groaned. Fearing this would be like the chicken sausage, which he hadn’t planned on buying. He could smell the grease and his stomach churned, he honestly didn’t want to eat something greasy. He stopped before a stand of Elephant ears and looked at them, he had a feeling Sebastian’s would never be that greasy. “They look wonderful!” he chirped, “1 Please!” Claude blanched and looked away, his stomach was doing backflips looking at it.

 

He was about to comment when he caught a glimpse of that beautifully tousled hair. “I would like A carton of strawberries please,” he heard that beautiful voice say behind him. He sighed as he watched long fingers examine each one and he nodded, “I’ll take them, and throw in some blackberries as well,” he stated as he pointed to the lush dark blue fruit. Claude couldn’t tear his eyes away from the berries, he hummed after remembering how gentle he was with the fruit when he had first arrived and made the Mille Feuille. Part of him began to wonder what the chef intended to do with the succulent fruit, what sort of divine treats he was planning on making with them. He felt a sharp pain in his backside and he turned around to see Alois grinning shamelessly, he had just been pinched in the ass by the bartender. “Ouch, what the hell was that for?” asked Claude as he rubbed the sore spot without thinking. Golden eyes probed the flirtatious blond’s face for an answer. “Well I called your name like five times, and you didn’t respond!” he stated as he crossed his arms.

 

“I mean honestly do you have ADD or something, that’s not good for a chef, you’ll get burnt,” stated Alois as he tapped his toe. Claude noticed Sebastian move out of the corner of his eye and looked up, “I mean seriously it’s annoying, you can’t possibly be looking at another black bird,” he stated. Claude was resisting the urge of running up to Sebastian and begging for assistance, this was far more irritating than he imagined. His eyes lit up as he watched Sebastian turn down a familiar little ally to a wine distributor, “I was thinking about what wine to pair with the meal I had planned,” he replied smoothly. He was going into that shop to see what Sebastian would pick. He couldn’t lose him now, not when he was learning so much about him. Alois looked at him and grinned, “Oh, why didn’t you say so! You’ll cook for me?” he asked with large puppy dog eyes. Claude felt a pair of slender arms wrap around his arm as he walked, “Yes,” said Claude quickly. Anything to get closer to the mysterious chef.

 

They turned down the alley to the familiar wine shop he knew and he opened the door, “Oh wow, what a nice place!” chirped the blond before he began to walk down the rows of bottles. It was one of the first shops Claude had been to when he first came back to England after spending some time in Paris, it was still one of his favorites. They had a beautiful selection of rare wines, all of which Spears knew by heart. He walked down the length of the store and noticed Sebastian holding two bottles in his hands, he would recognize them a mile away. One of them was his personal favorites, a dry white wine from New York called Simi and the other was a bottle of Rosay with a French label. He paused and looked at them, he wanted to know which Sebastian would choose. He returned the Rosay to the shelf and called over the resident Sommelier. “I’m looking for something a little nutty and not as sweet,” he commented.

 

The Sommelier looked at both bottles and asked, “Drinking or cooking?” Sebastian shifted on his feet and replied without hesitation, “Cooking.” Claude’s eyes couldn’t leave the pair as they chatted about the body of both and the Sommelier stated, “That bottle of Simi isn’t as good, go with the one from 2003, it’s a better year and slightly more mature.” Sebastian handed the bottle to the rather short Sommelier and nodded as he followed. “I’ll take the Simi then,” he replied politely. Claude was dancing on the inside, the man was willing to use the wine he preferred to cook. “Claude! I want to know the difference between these,” said Alois as he sauntered over. Sebastian was at the counter handing him a few bills and disappeared. He groaned in frustration and looked at Alois, he had to ditch him somehow. Internally he was screaming for Sebastian to come back and save him.

 

~~xXx~~

 

After arguing with Alois for thirty minutes on wine, the blond bought both bottles, ignoring Claude’s suggestions. “Wine should be enjoyed not used to drown yourself,” commented Claude. Alois looked at him as though he had several heads, “I’m not drowning myself,” he replied and crossed his arms as he carried the bag with wine in it. Claude sighed and rolled his eyes, “Says the one who wanted to pour tequila on his Cheerios,” he muttered. Alois jumped and looked at him wide-eyed, he looked as though Claude had just told him the secret of making gold from other metals, “I totally forgot about that! I so want to try that,” he cried. The head chef groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he mentally kicked himself to reminding the blond. They walked down the street and Alois’ phone rang, Claude crossed his fingers that he would finally get rid of the blond.

 

“What do you mean that they didn’t have it?” he asked with an irritated tone. Alois was the Head Bartender which meant he was in trouble if the right liquors weren’t in the case. “No I said a case of Bombay Sapphire, completely different,” he commented and groaned. The only thing which Alois both seemed to care about and know was bartending, it honestly amused him how the blond was able to run the bar with ease and an air or authority. “Alright, I’ll come down, yeah tell Soma I’m coming. No, it’s not his fault, it’s those idiots running the place,” he grumbled before hanging up and looking at Claude with a pout. “I have to go to work,” he said with sad eyes. Claude was internally cheering fate was finally on his side. “Pity,” said Claude with little emotion as he contained his joy. Alois sighed and looked at him, “I’ll see you around, Claudy-Bear,” he said before blowing him a kiss and vanishing.

 

Claude slumped against a wall and sighed with relief, the storm had finally left.He looked at his bags and decided it wouldn’t hurt to look around just a little longer. He continued to wander until he saw a familiar slender figure smiling, he was carrying a paper bag and his red eyes seemed to dance. As Claude got closer he was overwhelmed by the smell of maple sugar, butter and vanilla. It was a familiar smell that he simply couldn’t place. Sebastian’s lips were curved in a small smile as he watched a young woman work, on wrapping an order. Before Claude realized it he was standing beside Sebastian and he finally knew what had amused his patissier. Resting on a silver tray lined with parchment were small swirled pastries. Golden eyes slowly widened as he looked at them, they were simple, a piece of puff pastry coiled with a maple sugar filling with a touch of cinnamon. A peasant dish, Sebastian had made pastries far more elegant and complex. Yet he was looking at these small round pastries as though they were the greatest thing he had ever tasted.

 

The Head Chef stared at Sebastian in confusion, “What are they?” he asked after a moment, he couldn’t find a tag and began to wonder if there was some secret to them that only a Patissier would know. The slender pastry chef jumped and glanced over at Claude. A look of shock appeared on his face, naturally he didn’t think Claude used the same market or hadn’t expected to see him there. “The pastries, I don’t recognize them,” said Claude after a moment as he glanced back down at the tray. The raven haired chef relaxed a little and responded, “ _Pets de Nonne_ ,” he chuckled after saying it. Claude was even more confused at the response, he couldn’t understand why Sebastian was laughing. “What’s so funny?” the Head Chef asked after a moment as he attempted to put some meaning to the words. He was at a total loss and looked over at the chuckling chef.

 

Sebastian hummed with delight as he shook his head and looked at the baker, “Deux Pets de Nonne, s’il vous plait,” he said swiftly. A young man looked up from the register as the woman glanced at him in utter confusion. “I’ve got this,” said the man as he walked over and picked up the two pastries and wrapped them in paper, “Here you are,” he said as he handed them to Sebastian. The young pastry chef handed the man a few pounds and the baker looked at him in confusion, “Sir, you’ve given me too much,” he commented. Sebastian shook his head and replied, “That is for a child looking for something sweet.” There was a nostalgic smile on his face and the man smiled, “I see, I’ll set this aside and slip it in once he has come,” responded the baker with a smile. The woman looked even more confused than before, Claude could tell there was something unspoken between the owner and Sebastian, a mutual understanding which he wanted to know about.

 

“Thank you for your patronage,” said the owner with a nod and Sebastian held out one of the round pastries to Claude. The Head Chef looked at him hesitantly, he had never heard of the dish, he didn’t even understand what the name meant and yet he was going to eat it. “Try it, it’s really good,” said Sebastian with a smile as he folded back a corner of the parchment and took a bite. His lips wrapped around the pastry and he purred with joy as he tasted it. A faint blush covered his cheeks as he closed his eyes and savored the sweet treat.

 

The Head Chef slowly took a bite and tasted the buttery flaky crust, which seemed to fall apart in his mouth. It wasn’t nearly as good as Sebastian’s rough pastry that he had made in haste to complete the _Millie Fleuie_. However, it was fairly close, the maple played on his tongue and surprisingly it wasn’t too sweet, it was nutty, and had a nip of cinnamon on the end. He looked up to see Sebastian watching him intently, it was clear he was trying to see if Claude liked it. The Head Chef licked his thumb and nodded in approval, “Very tasty,” he hummed as he licked the sugar off of his thumb.

 

“Pets de Nonne was a traditional French treat that was created in Paris, young children would buy it on the streets or in bakeries with coin. Originally they were made with a type of puff pastry which was used in cream puffs called _Choux Puff_ ,” Sebastian explained. Claude looked at the pastry in confusion, it wasn’t heavy enough for that, “However, when the French brought it to Canada the recipe was altered. Bakers found it a hassle to make Puff pastry just for the treat, so it was changed to pastry scraps,” he explained. There was a glint of joy in his eyes as he spoke of the small wheel in his hand.

 

Claude stared at the man as he spoke, his passion for pastries exceeded most chef’s for their craft. There was something romantic about watching the young man speak of the pastry in his hands. Something which Claude himself had forgotten, the love of the craft. To make food which served a purpose and warmed people. “Is it normal for French people to leave extra money for a child?” asked Claude after a moment. He had lived in Paris for a long time and had never seen anyone tell a baker to give a treat to a child and pay them for it in advance. Burgundy orbs shifted from their dancing form to one of sadness and pain. His smile vanished from his lips as he looked at the pastry in his hand, “Claude do you know what makes a pastry, or any dish, special?” he asked after a moment.

 

The question itself startled Claude, no one had ever asked him that, he had never actually thought about what it meant to be a chef. It seemed far too philosophical for his taste, and yet here Sebastian was asking the very question he dreaded. “I’ve never given that aspect much thought,” he replied honestly. Sebastian scoffed and shook his head, his eyes were filled with that sadness he had seen when _Amalie_ wasn’t doing well. He hummed as he looked at the treat, it was as though he were creating a recipe for another treat while gazing at it.

 

“Every pastry is a memory, crafted by a chef to inspire new ones when enjoyed. They bring sweetness to bitter days and pain, and they make memories better. As a chef I can only hope that someone out there finds happiness when they eat my pastries,” he said after a moment. He paused and looked at Claude, “It’s not the food which is important but the memories crafted as people eat the food, that’s what is important. We like to think it’s our skill and palate which makes us special,” he said slowly and Claude felt as though he were finally looking into this man’s soul. A place of loneliness, pain and sadness. He felt his heart wrench in his chest as Sebastian spoke, “However in the end a pastry is just a pastry, meaningless without the chef’s memories and those which people craft as they eat them,” he finished.

 

Sebastian’s sad smile was replaced with a warm one, it was beautiful, “When I was six, my mother died and we left for Paris from London. My father was an investment broker at the time,” said Sebastian after a moment. Claude froze, he had an eerie feeling about what Sebastian was about to tell him. He hadn’t expected the chef to tell him, he was so guarded that it was difficult to understand why he was doing this. “My father abandoned me at an orphanage outside of Paris when I was 9,” he continued. Claude froze, he knew Sebastian had it rough but to be abandoned by his own father, was not something he expected. “They were strict at the orphanage and often told us that the devil would take our souls if we weren’t good. There was one garden we weren’t allowed in, it was Father Francis’ private garden,” said Sebastian slowly.

 

“We were all curious as to what he grew in it, naturally because it was forbidden many of us tried to get in, only for the nuns to catch us and punish us,” he commented with a chuckle, “We would get them so angry.” The sound of Sebastian’s laughter was just as sweet as the sugar he used to bake with. Heart warming and a sound which made Claude smile. He could imagine a young raven haired boy causing mischief and pestering the nuns. “Anyway, I managed to sneak over the large brick wall and take a look. Unforchantly Father Francis spotted me,” he said slowly. The joy was gone from his voice as he spoke. It was slightly painful, he could tell that what followed wasn’t as happy. “He managed to catch me,” there was a pause, Sebastian shuddered and Claude could tell this wasn’t a friendly memory. It looked as though Sebastian were editing something out, “He punished me,” he said slowly. He looked like a small child, afraid of being hurt again, which made Claude wonder just what the man’s punishment was.

 

“That evening, I managed to sneak out, I knew I would be punished by the nun’s later, but I didn’t care,” he said slowly as he looked at the pastry in his hand. Claude stared at Sebastian only to realize that this man had been tortured for years of his life. That Ciel was mild compared to everything else he had been through. “It was closing time and the bakery in town, which had chased us away with a broom, was throwing out day old pastries,” he said with a warm smile, “the baker saw me and took pity on me. Father Francis’ punishment was obvious to the baker and the man who we all feared would beat us with the rolling pin, gave me a treat,” he said after a moment. Burgundy eyes were warm and filled with a kindness, “He was kind to me, when all others weren’t. My father had brought me treats before, but that pastry was the best I had ever tasted,” he whispered. Claude froze when he realized that this was why Sebastian was a Pậtissier. He slowly looked up at the Head Chef, “He offered me a chance to learn how to make pastries, to escape. I gladly accepted it,” he finished.

 

Claude had a feeling that this wasn’t all of the story, however he wasn’t about to press for more. “Is he the one who taught you how to bake?” asked Claude after a moment, he wondered what the name of the Patisserie was and if the owner was still around. “Yes, he taught me how to make these,” he commented as he held of the pastry. Sebastian’s smile came back again, it was apparent he respected his first teacher. Not many chefs respected their first of many teachers and masters which they learned from. Many were far too arrogant, himself included, to give them credit where it belonged. Yet there was something which was still bugging him, what the pastry’s name meant, “What does it mean, the name of the pastry,” asked Claude finally.

 

He was hoping Sebastian’s tale would give something away, Sebastian simply chuckled and looked at him with a smirk of glee. “Pets de Nonne is a rather nasty name for such a wonderful pastry,” he began after finishing the small wheel and dropping the paper in a nearby rubbish bin. “It means Nun’s sighs or as children say, Nun’s farts,” he responded with a giggle. Claude stared wide eyed at the chef before him, he looked at the pastry and commented, “You can’t be serious.” Sebastian hummed as he cradled the bag in his arm and replied, “I am, that’s what it means. If you don’t believe me, look it up,” he commented with a teasing grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Recipe: Leigh, Rowely. "Recipe: Strawberry Millefeuille." Recipes. Financial Times, 2014. Web. 19 Apr. 2014.


End file.
